


wish I had a river I could skate away on

by kitbuckle



Category: Original Work, You Could Make a Life Series - Taylor Fitzpatrick
Genre: 2019 YCMAL Holiday Exchange, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Angst, M/M, christmas 2019, just Bowman family angst tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21979999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitbuckle/pseuds/kitbuckle
Summary: Andy’s not home for Thanksgiving. That’s not new—the schedule almost never allows time for players to travel home for Thanksgiving, Canadian or American—but what is new is the strained, plaintive tone in his mom’s voice.“You already have plans?” Incredulous. She’s incredulous, too.Andy winces. He’s starting to think maybe he was not-thinking about this on purpose. “Yeah, we’ve already said we’d go to Brampton, so…”Silence, tense and painful. “You do realize,” his mom says, and Andy braces himself, “you haven’t spent Christmas at home since you told us.”
Relationships: Andy Bowman/Derek Carruthers, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	wish I had a river I could skate away on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skorppan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skorppan/gifts).



> This is a gift for Pyry/@skorppan for the 2019 YCMAL Holiday Exchange, for the prompt Andy/Derek, “something a little bittersweet related to the holidays bc i do thrive on sadness, but holiday fluff is always lovely too!”
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
> [Title from the song "River" by Joni Mitchell]

They’re a few months away from their sixth anniversary—unfortunately for Dan and the diver, they got together right after the wedding, and Derek never stops asking to go on double anniversary dates—when Andy realizes he will probably never spend another Christmas with his parents.

Or—maybe that’s not right. Andy realizes he has not spent Christmas with his family since he and Derek got together. And maybe he knew it before this terrible conversation, deep in the most embarrassed corners of his brain, but Andy also realizes he hasn’t been home for Christmas when his mom tells him so when he talks to her on Thanksgiving.

(Except it’s not home anymore, he thinks guiltily. His parents’ house doesn’t feel like home, even though he remembers pulling into the driveway at ass o’clock in the morning, that last Christmas he was there, seeing his mom in her housecoat through the window, forgetting any reluctance to be there. The times he’s been back since he told his parents about the whole gay thing, though—all in the summer—he couldn’t shake the feeling like he was trying to fit into a suit he hadn’t realized he’d outgrown. Tight, restricting, uncomfortable. Andy’s familiar with the feeling; he’s grown out of a lot of suits.)

Andy’s not home for Thanksgiving either; they have a game against Minnesota that night. That’s not new—the schedule almost never allows time for players to travel home for Thanksgiving, Canadian or American—but what is new is the strained, plaintive tone in his mom’s voice.

“You already have plans?” Incredulous. She’s incredulous, too.

Andy winces. He’s starting to think maybe he was not-thinking about this on purpose. “Yeah, we’ve already said we’d go to Brampton, so…”

Silence, tense and painful. “You do realize,” his mom says, and Andy braces himself, “you haven’t spent Christmas at home since you told us.”

Andy knows what she’s talking about—he feels the heat in his face, crawling down his neck—but he still asks. “Told you what?”

“Andrew.”

“Told you that I’m gay? Or told you that I’m with Derek?” Andy isn’t used to anger, doesn’t like it the way he thinks other guys do, the kind of guys his mom was afraid he was turning into when he started using his body more on the ice. He knew he was hurt about this, but his anger surprises him. His mom isn’t saying anything. “You remember Derek? Carruthers? You’ve met him. He came all the way out to Prince Albert to meet you. And Dad.”

“I remember,” she says, both like it costs something to admit it and like she means _as if I could forget_.

Andy would like to forget it. Derek is charming—so charming his teammates still like him with all the stupid shit he pulls on a regular basis—but only as long as he’s not trying. With Andy’s parents, he tried. He tried so hard. It was terrible.

“He was trying,” Andy says. “He knows you’re important to me.”

“You have an odd way of showing it,” his mom says. “We haven’t seen you at Christmas for five years. Five years, Andrew.” She sounds close to crying, and Andy wants nothing more than for this conversation to be over, but he can’t hang up. “Have you—have you been with him all that time?”

“We’ve never broken up, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking if my son would rather spend Christmas with his—teammate’s family instead of his own.”

Here’s the thing—Andy can’t cut his parents out of his life. He knows other people do. He’s a hockey player, not an idiot. He knows some people come out, and their families don’t handle it well, and people cut each other out of their lives. He had that fear—still does, maybe—that his parents would never speak to him again after he told them. It took his dad weeks. He knows he has it better than some people. He knows Derek’s family (and Dan’s, and the diver’s) is better about it than his. And no, he’s not just keeping his parents because he knows others have it worse. He just…loves them. He doesn’t see them often enough for all this to hurt him, really, especially because he and his parents mostly talk hockey, not Derek. Andy’s not that big a sharer about his relationship, not even to teammates or Derek’s family, so he’s not bursting for his parents to ask him.

He can’t cut his parents out of his life. He’s not capable of it. But the idea of missing Christmas at David and Maria’s house, surrounded by all the kids and teasing, playing the newlywed game with Derek’s siblings and their partners even though they always moan that he and Derek are too soft—sharing a room with Derek, God, which they hadn’t even done when Derek visited Prince Albert—missing all that for a few days of bleak cold, hockey talk, and just his parents for company? And Derek, if he came along, trying harder than ever to win over the small-town-minded Bowmans? It makes Andy sick, but he can’t deny it. More to the point, he’s too furious to deny it. He just hopes she can’t hear the thickness in his voice.

“They’re family,” Andy says. “They’ll always be family. This isn’t going away, Mom.” He swallows past the ache in his throat. “Even if Derek went away,” and he won’t, not ever, not if Andy has anything to say about it, “I’m never gonna have a wife, Mom. I’m not coming back to Prince Albert when I retire.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she says, sharp enough that Andy knows she thought he would. Maybe get a house on the same street, among people who assume gay and monogamous are automatic opposites. “You’re still my son. I know you. You’re not one of those people who moves to the big city and forgets where he comes from.”

“No,” Andy agrees. “I’m not.” He’s not. “I’m not ashamed of where I come from. It’s just.” Much like coming out, he would never tell her this if he could get away with it. “It’s easier. In Brampton.”

*

Derek’s learned to recognize when Bowie’s been talking to his folks. He still calls them once a week, like a good little (ha) Saskatchewanian boy. He always talks to his mom, sometimes his dad. Bowie doesn’t announce it or anything, it’s not his style— _oh, look at me, such a good son, gotta call the ‘rents_ —but he leaves whatever room Derek is in, and he’s quiet when he comes back. Quieter than regular-Bowie quiet. Other times, he’s hunched in on himself, but not blushing—not embarrassed—and it takes Derek way more effort than usual to make him smile again. _Suppressed_ is the best word Derek can think of, to describe what Andy’s like those times. And, look, Derek’s not the kind of guy to say shit about another dude’s mom, let alone Andy’s mom, but he can’t help his thoughts. He can’t help that he feels protective of Andy from Andy’s own damn parents.

Derek’s brought up Christmas in Prince Albert a couple times, but Bowie’s never held him to it. He’ll wait a few days, maybe a week, then mention Brampton to Derek like they’ve already decided that’s where they’re going. Which—Derek will never fight too hard about spending the holidays with the Carruthers clan. He’ll also never fight too hard about not going to Saskatchewan, where Decembers are Too Cold and Andy’s parents stare him down like he’s a cradle robber. (He and Bowie are only five years apart, and while Derek still feels a twinge of weird that their first time happened while Bowie was a rookie—chill the fuck out.) But, when Bowie comes back from calling his mom with red eyes and tears threatening, Derek thinks he should’ve fought harder.

(Well. After he stops being furious at Andy’s mom for making him cry. It’s Derek’s first, gut-deep instinct, being furious at people who make Andy cry.)

Andy drops onto the couch, curls up as small as his giant body will allow, and pushes his face into Derek’s chest. Derek can feel the damp spot on his shirt almost immediately, so he just pets Andy’s hair with one hand and wraps the other arm as far around Andy’s back as it’ll go. Bobsled materializes out of nowhere to cuddle against Andy’s stomach and purr like a chainsaw.

It takes a while. For Andy to get it out. Derek holds his tongue between his teeth and bites down, hard, to keep himself from probing. Instead, he murmurs nonsense things in his softest Andy Voice. Pet names fall out of his mouth with no intent to tease behind them. Andy’s a big dude, but there’s always been something about him—he’s fucking— _sweet_ , and patient, and easily embarrassed, and thoughtful, and all other kinds of shit that gets Derek’s insides all mushy, makes Derek want to bundle him up so tight he’s smaller than Derek, so Derek can successfully hide him away from all the bad shit. Derek catches himself wanting to make Andy small, but not the way Andy makes himself small, all uncomfortable looking, hunched in, _don’t look at me please god don’t look at me_. Derek wants to make Andy small as in, like…protect-able. He wants to make Andy feel as safe as a kid in grown-up arms. Short of a shrink ray, though, the best he can do is hold Andy tight, pull a blanket over everything Derek can’t reach (which is most of him), and let Andy push his face so hard against Derek’s sweater that Derek starts to worry about suffocation.

The gist of it is, Andy’s mom finally called him out on not going to Prince Albert for Christmas in five fucking years—ever since Andy came out to his parents, what a shock—and Andy feels guilty for preferring Christmas in Brampton…and then admitting that to his mom.

Derek barely has time to process that, along with all his protect-Andy feelings, when Andy’s phone goes off. The caller ID says “Dad”. Andy pales. Derek takes the phone. Andy makes a soft protesting noise. Derek answers.

“Andrew Bowman’s phone, Derek speaking.”

A pause. “Carruthers,” Mr. Bowman says, acknowledgment and a greeting. “I need to speak to my son.”

“Sorry, Mr. B, he can’t come to the phone right now.” This is Derek’s favorite way to deal with people he doesn’t like (and can’t punch)—savage cheeriness. “Would you like to leave a message?”

Another pause. Derek doesn’t know much about Bowie’s dad, but the self-evident information—hockey player in the ‘80s and ‘90s, married the first Mrs. Bowman young, got himself traded far away from her and their two kids after the divorce, got mad when baby Bowie asked about his half-siblings, comfortable in population-forty-thousand Prince fucking Albert—plus how little Bowie talk about him, and his absence and implicit disapproval during Derek’s first and only visit to P.A.—makes Derek pretty near certain that he’s grinding teeth and clenching fists right now.

“Can you ask him why he thought it was appropriate to make his mother cry?” Bowman asks. “And why he’s avoiding his parents. I know I didn’t raise a coward.” Andy, close enough to hear every word, flinches.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Derek says, channeling every prerecorded secretarial voice he’s ever heard. “I think you’re in an area with poor reception. Please check with your service provider and try again later.”

Derek hangs up—not before Mr. Bowman snaps, “ _Carruthers_ ”—and tosses Andy’s phone onto the coffee table, well out of easy reach. Andy’s frozen at his side. Bobsled is staring at Derek, all _what the fuck did you do, dumbass_. Derek shrugs at her.

When too much time passes with no one saying anything, Derek says, “You’re not a coward.”

Bowie sighs, deflates a little. “It kinda feels like I am.”

“No,” says Derek, jostling Bowie like he’s trying to shake it into him. “You were brave to tell them. A coward wouldn’t have done that.”

“Five years avoiding the issue isn’t all that brave.” Bowie’s trying to sound dry, funny, but. “It would’ve been better to get this out a few years ago.”

“Maybe,” Derek allows, “but maybe not. Would they have taken you seriously three years ago?”

“They should have,” Bowie grumbles, but there’s something in his voice that says no, they probably wouldn’t have. He wraps his arms around Derek and squeezes. “I’m serious about you.”

“I know, babe.” Happiness fizzing in his gut, Derek drops a kiss in that ginger hair. And then another, and another, just because. “Gonna be okay?” He doesn’t want Bowie feeling anything bad while they’re in Brampton—Derek only wants Andy to feel good things, unrealistic though that is, but Christmas with the Carruthers and kiddos is special. It makes Andy glow.

Bowie inflates and deflates with a big sigh. “Me and them? Dunno. Me and you, and Christmas?” He adjusts himself until he’s looking Derek in the eyes. Bowie’s are red still, but he looks more at peace than he did an hour ago. “That’s always been good, Der.”

The only appropriate response is to haul Bowie into a headlock and mess up his hair—softer than a noogie, but not by much—so that’s what Derek does, until Bowie’s laughing and Bobsled is batting at Derek’s hands. Then there’s kissing, which is. So great. Kissing Bowie is great.

“We still have to figure out what to get Adam’s kids,” Bowie says, breath puffing against Derek’s lips.

“Teenagers are hard,” Derek whines. He spares a snort for the dick joke, grimaces because that’s his nephew, and sets about kissing Andy again.

This is probably not the last time Andy will be hurt by his parents, or feel guilty around the holidays. Derek makes a mental note to ask about Bowman Christmas traditions—there has to be room for a few in the usual Carruthers roster, just like there was room for Andy. Derek doesn’t ever want Andy to feel like he’s losing anything by them being together. Almost six years in, Derek thinks they’re doing pretty good—and God knows there’s not a lot he can do about the Bowmans, except be there for Andy—but there’s always room for improvement.


End file.
